CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AFTERMATH
They were all in the town of Maletta again, two months later. It lookedcleaner and neater than when they had first seen it, for thetownspeople and the U. S. Army engineers had done a first-rate job ofcleaning out the mud and trash left by the flood waters.
Scotti was back in the United States, recuperating from his wounds, butthe rest of them were heading back to the front lines again, quite adistance to the north by this time. They took the last day of theirfurlough for a visit in the town that had been so important a part oftheir lives for one week.
But there were some differences. Dick Donnelly wore a FirstLieutenant’s bars on his shoulders. The General had conferred thecommissioned rank on him on the field of action, right after thesuccessful conclusion of the battle for Maletta. And there was thecolored ribbon on his left breast which meant the awarding of theDistinguished Service Medal.
Tony Avella was a Master Sergeant now. He and his Uncle Tomaso had beencaught on the opposite hill, away from the cave, by the flood waters.But that had meant nothing more than sitting and waiting for the watersto recede. They had been hungry and exhausted after their ordeal butthat was all. Even old Tomaso stood up well under it.
Vince Salamone and Max Burckhardt were both corporals now and everyonein the group had some sort of citation in recognition of his brilliantand heroic work. Boom-Boom Slade, as meek and quiet as always, seemed alittle embarrassed at the decoration on his breast.
They all went to call on old Tomaso first of all. They found him in hissame old room in the servants’ wing, but not the sad and broken manthey had first seen there. He had put on a little weight, decentclothes now enhanced his dignified bearing. With characteristic Italianemotion he gratefully saluted the American flag which now flew abovethe door of the ancient villa.
“Did they take down the radio from the tower?” Tony asked him.
“No, it’s still there,” Tomaso said. “I think they may just haveforgotten about it. And I haven’t said anything because when this waris over I want the town to put that in a museum—as a memorial to thebattle of Maletta.”
“Well, it can stay there for all I care,” Tony said. “I had my fill ofthat bell tower for the rest of my life. I never want to see it again.”
Tomaso led them to a sidewalk restaurant where they sat and drankcoffee and talked together. They recalled all their experiences again,reliving in memory those hectic days. It was a good memory, and theresult had been a great success. Thousands of German soldiers had beendrowned, thousands more killed by the Americans that poured across thetwo ridges and so caught them in a vise. Hundreds of trucks and tanksand guns had been lost by the enemy and many of these were alreadyrepaired and serving the American forces. The general told them thattheir work had saved at least a month in the Italian campaign, probablymore.
While they sat, Enrico came along and said hello to them all.
“Now,” he said to Dick, “I can take time to ask you for your autograph.”
Dick felt foolish, but he signed a note for the young Italian. Enricothanked the young lieutenant profusely, and then said very seriously,“You know the opera company is singing _Cavalleria Rusticana_ tonight.I’m really not up to it. It would be a great treat for me to sit in theaudience. How about it, Ricardo Donnelli, will you sing _Turridu_tonight?”
“Bravo,” cried Tomaso with a wave of his hand and his black eyessparkling. “The great Donnelli it is for tonight.”
“No, no,” Dick protested. “I’m not a singer these days, I’m a soldier.”
“Forget it, big boy,” exclaimed Vince Salamone with affection and notwithout humor, for he was a good foot taller than Dick. “You’re goingto be _Turridu_ tonight and capture the hearts of all the girls inMaletta.”
“You bet you are,” agreed Tony. “He’s my favorite opera hero, and I’dlike to hear his role sung proper-like.” Adding with a mock-serious bowto Enrico, “No offense to you, my good fellow.”
And Max Burckhardt exclaimed in his good-natured way, “No kiddin’,Lieutenant. I’d like to find out first hand if all the hullabaloo Ihear about those vocal chords of yours is on the level.”
Boom-Boom Slade came out of his customary reticence to add, “It wouldgive me the keenest pleasure, Lieutenant Donnelly, to hear a man singwhose talents as a soldier I so deeply respect.”
So that evening they all went to see Ricardo Donnelli in _CavalleriaRusticana_. But the next morning it was Lieutenant Dick Donnelly thatreported to his commanding officer at the front lines.
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Dick Donnelly of the Paratroops Page 17
